


and every time you go, i'm here thinking "maybe it's me"

by intothefirewego



Series: when our hearts collide, i hope our world is a kaleidoscope [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hurt No Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Misunderstandings, Uther is a dick, arthur doesn't understand what love is, supportive morgana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22170043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intothefirewego/pseuds/intothefirewego
Summary: Someone would love him someday. Just because Arthur was Arthur, because he existed, and he was there, and he was worthy of being loved based on that alone.But he had never considered that his soulmate would not want to love him.~companion piece to "blue and other burdens," i highly recommend reading that one first, this won't make much sense otherwise
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: when our hearts collide, i hope our world is a kaleidoscope [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595821
Comments: 22
Kudos: 585





	and every time you go, i'm here thinking "maybe it's me"

**Author's Note:**

> hi, guys!
> 
> i was thinking about my first upload all day today, and my fingers were itching to sit down and type out the companion piece to the first one so wow! two uploads in one day! i've been a busy bee and there might be grammar/punctuation mistakes, so i'm sorry in advance lmao
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: brief mentions of uther pendragon being emotionally manipulative and generally a bad father
> 
> hope you enjoy! see you at the bottom!
> 
> ((title is from tessa violet's "prelude"))

Arthur was positive that his soulmate was the dumbest human being on Earth.

He was a fool, and a coward, and a selfish, cruel person.

Arthur hated him. He was positive of it. He so completely sure of the fact, he let it consume him. But even as he thought it, even just long enough for the thought to bounce in his head until it ached, he knew it was not true. He was _incapable_ of hating him. 

And that made Arthur angrier than anything else that had happened.

He needed it to be true. He needed to hate him with every fibre of his being. He wanted to hate him. It would be so much easier to hate him. 

He could hate him for leaving his chest flayed open, he could hate him for leaving at all, he could hate him for not telling him his name, he could hate him, he should hate him, he _would_ hate him. 

But.

He would hate him, _but_ he was too busy being completely in love with the ass instead. 

God, he hated him. 

And he would definitely let the bugger know as soon as he found him. 

Stupid, idiotic imbecile. 

Daft, empty-minded, beautiful, gorgeous idiot. 

He had left him with nothing. Except blue. The most beautiful and heartbreaking thing Arthur had ever seen.

When he was younger, he didn’t really believe in soulmates. His father was gruff and short when it came to talking about Arthur’s mother, and he didn’t get the soulmate talk until he was thirteen by Gaius. The older man had pulled him aside and said that Uther wanted Arthur to know about soulmates. Arthur of course dismissed the notion as trite and “girl’s stuff.” But. 

But but but. 

He let a tiny part of him hope. In the most secret parts of his mind, locked far away he dreamed about what his soulmate would look like if he ever found her. Probably light grey hair and even lighter eyes. And huge knockers. Gaius had said that she would have blue, brown, or green eyes (or a variation of those). Arthur wondered what they would look like. She’d have to be fair, very pretty indeed; Arthur would never settle for less. 

But his soulmate was a man. 

A man. Arthur would curse his bad luck, but even as he thought it, he knew he was nothing short of the luckiest man on the planet. Arthur’s soulmate was gorgeous. And an absolute berk. 

Uther never let Arthur linger too long on the notion of soulmates, even after his cautious introduction to the terminology. Uther hadn’t even told Arthur that he loved him until he was fourteen. Arthur had killed his first man that day. His name was Thaddeus, Arthur had found out later, and he had snuck into the palace to kill the king. Arthur never forgot the feeling of Thaddeus’s body become lighter as he died, as if Arthur was feeling his spirit leave his body in real time. Arthur couldn’t stop trembling for weeks after, and had screaming nightmares for days. Morgana would come into his rooms, then, in secret. She knew all about nightmares, and comforted him with calming words and hugs. Arthur would rather die than admit the way he clung to her, shaking. A small part of him, a disgusting, horrible part of himself was proud. Uther had told him he loved him, that he was proud of him. 

The price of love was steep, but Arthur had paid it.

Love was far-away and hard-fought, Arthur learned that day. Uther had kept it that way.

Arthur’s soulmate had always been something secret, something just for him to keep. An idea that he let himself think about sometimes at night, when he was feeling particularly cold in his chambers.

Someone would love him, someday. 

The idea of a soulmate was so massive, that just thinking about it made Arthur shiver. Love so large and all-encompassing that it consumed everything. Arthur had seen his father’s love for his mother do it to Camelot. The idea of loving someone so much that others were forfeit made Arthur afraid, but he would not even admit that to himself.

Arthur wondered what price he would have to pay for his soulmate’s love.

He asked Gaius that, one day, when he was seventeen. Gaius was changing the binding on Arthur’s broken wrist, the one that he had broken during training. “Gaius,” he asked, “what do I have to do for my soulmate to love me?” 

Gaius slowed his movements. Arthur cursed silently at himself. He was old enough now that he shouldn’t need advice, or help, from anyone. Arthur didn’t look him in his eyes, instead focusing on his own hands. Arthur’s knuckles were bruised. Gaius’s knuckles, swollen with age, knobbed further as he squeezed Arthur’s good hand.

“My boy,” Gaius began, “you don’t have to do anything for them to love you. They will love you unconditionally, with no cost.” Arthur, shocked, looked up into Gaius’s light eyes. That could not be the case. So much love—a lifetime of devotion—could be bought with nothing?

The look that Gaius gave Arthur that day was not something that Arthur would forget easily. It was so pitying and sad that anger rose in Arthur’s chest unbidden. He snatched his hand away from Gaius so sharply that it aggravated his wrist. The pain only spurred Arthur’s anger.

“Don’t you ever look at me that way again. I am the prince, and you have nothing to pity me for. I am your superior, physician.” Arthur grit between clenched teeth. Gaius didn’t look away. Arthur ran.

Looking back now, Arthur felt guilty for snapping at Gaius. But the thought still confounded him.

It made something very small, very buried in Arthur, tentatively raise its head. Someone would love him someday. Just because Arthur was Arthur, because he existed, and he was there, and he was worthy of being loved based on that alone.

But he had never considered that his soulmate would not _want_ to love him.

The boy seemed overjoyed at first to have found Arthur, and Arthur could not help but reciprocate those feelings. The boy was magnetic, and Arthur could feel himself swaying closer to him when they met. His heart was thumping louder and louder in his chest, as if it was having a competition with itself to beat each previous pump in ferocity. 

The boy was beautiful. His lithe, long limbs were so angular, like the rest of him, that Arthur bet there wasn’t a part of this boy’s body that didn’t hurt a little bit when held close. Arthur wanted to find out, so badly, that the desire knocked him over a little bit.

He was too skinny, criminally thin, and Arthur’s skin prickled uncomfortably with the want to protect him. Possessiveness. That was certainly a new feeling about a human being. Arthur felt possessive over his clothes, his swords, his chambers, his dogs. But he had never wanted to hide a human being away before to ensure that nothing unpleasant could ever reach them.

But his eyes. 

Lord, his eyes.

His eyes were the brightest thing that Arthur had ever seen, and he felt like a doe staring down the shaft of an arrow. He knew what was coming, he knew he was going to die, and yet he couldn’t look away. 

His eyes were framed by long, dark, dark eyelashes, like ink. His cheekbones were sharp enough for Arthur to whet his sword, and his hair was a thick, messy mop.

The boy’s ears were large and very noticeable, sticking out from his head in the way handles would off of a sieve, and yet the boy was relentlessly endearing. Every facet of the boy that could be considered awkward at first glance was smoothed and righted by the earnestness of him.

His smile lit up his entire face, and his eyes crinkled pleasantly in the corners, as if he rarely ever stopped.

He glowed like the silver light of a star, and Arthur’s knees were weak.

Arthur would be loved by a star.

And then the dumb idiot felt it pertinent to run away.

Run away from Arthur.

He had left him.

Arthur knew that the boy could hear Arthur’s pleas, his shoulders had tensed when Arthur had begged him to stay.

Begging him to stay wasn’t good enough. 

The boy had still left. Left Arthur in his insecurity and misery and pain.

Arthur had thrown himself wholeheartedly after the boy, and it was a miracle that he managed to evade him. Arthur was more muscular and athletic by far, but the boy was sprightly and sly.

When he had thrown open the door at the bottom of the turret, Arthur was barely a foot behind him, and lunged.

He had missed his soulmate by a matter of inches.

The crowd roiled around Arthur, and the light blinded him. Arthur stumbled blindly through the crowd, looking for white skin and inky black cheekbones but the world was again plunged into monotone.

Arthur’s head spun so ferociously that he fell to his knees, and the crowd parted around him as they recognized their prince. People stopped to help him, but Arthur swatted their desperate hands away.

That’s when Arthur noticed the sky.

It had been one week since Arthur Pendragon had kneeled in the mud, tears brimming in his eyes, heavenward, as Sir Leon shook him.

His soulmate didn’t want him.

Arthur knew that his soulmate was a commoner. His clothes had been threadbare and well-worn. He was a servant, from the way he was carrying water buckets. It didn’t matter to Arthur. 

He was a man. His Adam’s apple had bobbed underneath his ridiculous neckerchief when he was gaping at Arthur, his chest was flat, and he was possibly an inch taller than Arthur. These features did not make a man, but some innate, instinctive part of Arthur recognized his soulmate as a he. This, Arthur realized, was not a deal-breaker for Arthur. Men were beautiful, as were women. Arthur had given parts of his adolescent imagination to each. For their heir, they could adopt a ward, or find a surrogate. It was not uncommon for rulers to find adoptees if them or their spouse could not have children. Arthur scolded himself for that line of thinking. He felt silly and a bit daft putting thought into a hypothetical future that his soulmate clearly didn’t want. 

His soulmate was the fool, really. A mad, blathering idiot. A bony, clumsy mess of a man. Believing that was easier than believing the truth. That the boy simply didn’t care. 

Arthur had waited for years for someone to love him and held onto the hope that someone was out there who could love him, wholeheartedly, forever, unconditionally. 

There was a person who was capable of it.

And they did not _want_ to love him.

_Love has a steep price_ , Arthur thought as he looked out of his window in the palace. The sky was a brilliant blue today, and soft, darker hues near the horizon reminded him of the outer edges of his soulmate’s eyes. Arthur’s lungs ached with each inhale of bitter air. _And I will never be able to stop paying it._


End file.
